magog_83

Wordcount: 2,514
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Merlin and Arthur are archenemies. Optimistic young teacher Miss Slater thinks she can do something about that. Modern school!au. The fall out from that break time.

Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Part Six/Part Seven/Part Eight

A/N: Thanks to

vensre for the beta! I've been doing a tiny but of re-arranging with a couple of my parts here, so that's why this isn't yet the loooong update I may have mentioned (that's next up).

Ever since their run-in on the field, Miss Slater had noticed Arthur acting a little strangely. It was nothing too obvious. In fact it had taken her a week and another detention to properly notice anything at all. It was true that her English lessons with Year Eleven had become somewhat quieter over the past week, but based on previous experience Miss Slater had assumed this was merely the build up to a rather spectacular prank and not the result of a sudden and all-consuming love of Shakespearean prose. That she had been proven right in her suspicions was small comfort, and left a number of questions. Not least, how did Merlin put the glue on Arthur’s chair without anyone noticing? And however did it stick so fast? But, more importantly, how did Arthur fail to check his chair before sitting down - something Miss Slater knew for a fact he did as a matter of course whenever he entered a room to find Merlin already present. Even Merlin had looked somewhat shocked that his prank had succeeded so spectacularly, and he had managed barely a token protest when he arrived at school the next day to find his locker in the car park.

Since then Miss Slater had begun to notice other things too. Like the detention the previous Thursday when she and Arthur had waited as usual for Merlin to arrive. He had come jogging up, late as ever, and they had trailed down the corridor to the library where she had had to hang back with her heavy box and let one of the boys open the door – something that usually happened one of two ways. Either one pushed through and made sure to let the door slam in the other’s face (rarely successful, but apparently still worth a try), or they pushed through at the same time, half wedging themselves in the doorway. Except on that Thursday they had managed to grab for the door handle at the same time, colliding heavily before Arthur jerked back, putting at least three feet between himself and Merlin. Naturally Merlin looked highly suspicious at this unprecedented turn of events and promptly refused to go through the door first because Arthur had “obviously booby trapped it. Probably with his greasy hair gel.” While Arthur was busy spluttering indignantly that he did not use hair gel, Miss Slater had rolled her eyes, dumped the box and gone through the door herself – pointedly standing aside to wave them both through (and secretly very relieved not to be wearing a bucket of gel, ditch water or any other dubious substances on her head as a result).

Then she had noticed Arthur, well, watching Merlin. And not in that horribly familiar way that suggested he was about to flush Merlin’s blazer down the toilet (again). No, she had just looked up to see him standing by the second to last bookcase, holding on to a grubby copy of Careers for Girls like he was seriously considering a future in secretarial work, and frowning at the side of Merlin’s head, looking more confused than anything else. That was until Merlin had glanced up, caught him at it and pulled a face, saying, “What’s wrong with you? You look constipated.” Miss Slater had quickly cut in, before Arthur could do more than glower, sending Merlin off to the kitchen to make the tea – before she remembered that the last time she had trusted Merlin with that job several packets of salt from the school canteen had mysteriously made their way into Arthur’s mug and was obliged to follow him for supervisory purposes.

But on this particular Monday, nearly a week after the unfortunate break time, Miss Slater was pleased to note it had been a reassuringly uneventful day. That Merlin had been absent for most of the morning because of a dentist appointment had very little to do with it, or at least that’s what she told herself as she crossed the car park after school. So it was with a sinking feeling that she rounded the corner to see Merlin waiting for her outside the old library, blazer torn on one side, a few scratches on his cheek, and hair liberally adorned with mud. He looked up as soon as he saw her, offering a sheepish half-smile – which Miss Slater ignored.

“Honestly Merlin, you’ve only been at school for three hours!” She sighed and put down her bag while she fished in her pocket for her keys.

“Sorry miss,” said Merlin, sounding oddly subdued and apparently resisting the urge to treat her to a lengthy rendition of his Many Wrongs at the Hands of Arthur Pratdragon. She shook her head at him and pushed the key into the lock – just as running footsteps sounded behind her and she resigned herself to the inevitable.

“Sorry I’m late Miss!” Arthur came to a stop, only slightly out of breath from his dash across the car park. “Some of the boys wanted to have a quick word about practice on Wednesday.”

“A crucial conversation then,” Miss Slater said dryly as she pulled open the door, looking back at Arthur and raising an eyebrow.

Arthur smiled charmingly in response, “Downside of being the captain, Miss.” Somewhere behind them, Merlin snorted softly – and Arthur immediately turned, as Miss Slater knew he would. She gave him a warning look that she hoped conveyed the dire consequences of gloating over the state of Merlin’s blazer and muddy hair (although knowing Merlin, revenge would be swift - if it hadn’t been taken already). But to her great surprise, Arthur didn’t gloat at all, but instead stared, gaze taking in blazer and mud, before he said, “What happened to you?” in a shocked sort of voice.

Merlin shrugged, face heating beneath the dirt. “Nothing.”

“But you’re all—” Arthur broke off seeming to notice the scratches for the first time. “What happened to your face?”

“What happened to yours?” Merlin retorted, and Arthur glared and opened his mouth to speak – rousing Miss Slater from the stunned silence she had fallen into at the realisation that Merlin apparently fought with other people.

“Don’t you dare, Arthur. Merlin,” she turned her attention to the other boy. “Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” She supposed this broke every kind of rule of pastoral care, that she was only asking that now, and not before – but Merlin and Arthur were a rather special case.

Merlin rolled his eyes – which did more to reassure Miss Slater than anything he could have said. “I’m alright, I’m used to dealing with prats.” He slid a sidelong glance at Arthur, who scowled but at least this time kept quiet.

Miss Slater still felt a little worried. “Are you sure, Merlin? Because you know you can talk to me, or any teacher, about anything you want.”

Merlin looked faintly horrified at the suggestion he needed to share his innermost feelings with a member of staff, but then his expression turned interested instead, “What would you do to them?”

Miss Slater was taken aback, “Well, I would have to call them in and speak to them. The school is very rigorous in its stance on bullying – Mr Newman himself heads up the group that deal with cases and he takes a very serious view of it.”

“Oh,” said Merlin, “well in that case Arthur has been bullying me for years and I would like to recommend him for rehabilitation and—”

He was cut off by the need to duck out of Arthur’s reach, and Miss Slater reflected that it was possible she had worried un-necessarily on this occasion. Her warning made Arthur let go of Merlin long enough for him to wriggle free and dart through the door, followed by Miss Slater who placed herself very sensibly between them. By the time she switched on the lights in the old library and put down her bag, Merlin was looking much more himself, Arthur following close behind them and still eying Merlin like he was tempted to put him in a headlock.

Although the days were increasingly bitter, the library was a warm prospect that afternoon. In late October, Miss Slater had spoken to the caretaker about getting the radiators up and running again. Though they were old, they were still in working order and Miss Slater had taken to switching them on in afternoon break when she was planning to work there after school so as not to be sorting books and cleaning shelves in the otherwise frigid air. Warm or no, however, she still needed tea and she headed straight for the kitchen as usual to put the kettle on, with a warning of “Don’t think I can’t hear you two in here – behave!” as she went – just in case. But there was only silence for a few long moments as she filled the kettle and plugged it in, taking down three cups from the shelf. Then she heard the sound of a chair scraping back, and a bag being put down. Another long silence – so much so that she was about to check they were still alive in there – and then Merlin spoke, “What?”

“Nothing.” Arthur sounded defensive.

There was another silence and this time Miss Slater couldn’t help peering around the door frame. But she could only see Arthur looking absorbed in a pile of books on a nearby shelf, and Merlin sneaking glances at him as he attempted to rub some of the mud out of his hair (mostly without success). She turned back to the kettle, putting tea bags into cups and waiting for the water to finish boiling.

“You’re just spreading it around more.” It was Arthur again.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Merlin sounded peevish, and Miss Slater glanced out to see him looking cross and glaring at Arthur who had turned to lean back against the bookcase, hands in pockets and frowning. When Arthur continued to watch, and frown, Merlin scowled. “Shouldn’t you be doing something?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, apparently enjoying Merlin’s unusual discomfiture. “Like what?”

“Dunno, have you discovered fire yet? Because you should probably work on that.”

Arthur opened his mouth, then hastily shut it again when he saw Miss Slater watching. He kicked against the bottom of the bookcase a couple of times, glaring down at his shoes. Then, “So what happened to your face anyway? It looks like someone tried to use your head for a brush.”

Merlin flushed red, and rubbed at his face again. “I told you, I met a prat. It turns out there are bigger asses than you. I know,” he said when Arthur looked up. “I was shocked too.”

“Was it Liam?” Arthur asked abruptly.

Merlin blinked. “How did you—”

“It was, then.”

Merlin was looking uncertainly at Arthur, who had gone back to looking at his feet. Somewhere behind her the kettle clicked off, but Miss Slater ignored it, almost afraid to break whatever strange moment this was. Finally Merlin ducked his head, fingers playing with a long thread that had evidently come loose from his torn sleeve. “I’ve glued his locker shut anyway.”

There was a snort from Arthur, so quiet Miss Slater almost didn’t catch it. “Like he’s not going to know that was you.”

Merlin shrugged. “I wrote ‘Love Arthur’ on it in tippex.”

Miss Slater thought this might be a good moment to intervene. “Are you planning to start work anytime soon?” she called out, deliberately noisy as she poured the tea. There was hasty movement behind her, and when she carried the cups through, it was to find Merlin – still red faced and dirty – digging a cloth out of her box of supplies to start cleaning the cleared shelves, while Arthur was stacking the few books that remained on the table – treating each volume like it was possibly the most interesting tome known to mankind. She put the tea on the table, and watched them both approvingly for a few moments, before she picked up her To Do list and wondered what to start on next. Probably the back corner, as that had barely been touched. With a final glance at her two helpers, she picked up her tea and made her way past the dusty and untidy shelves – but not before she heard a low mutter of,

“I don’t know what it’s got to do with you anyway.”

“Nothing.” Arthur’s tone suggested a shrug. “Is that a spider on your head?”

Merlin’s answering yelp was much, much louder.

“Oops, my mistake,” came Arthur’s voice, before Miss Slater could do more than turn. “It’s just a bit of dust.”

.....

On Wednesday, football practice devolved into a scuffle between Arthur Pendragon and Liam Foster over what Arthur alleged was an illegal tackle and bad sportsmanship. Since the football coach, Mr Roberts, not to mention most of the team, had been complaining for some time about Liam’s tendencies to cheat and take his opponents down through rather painful means, there was a general feeling that Arthur was probably justified and that the whole thing was a long time coming – though officially both he and Liam were reprimanded and banned from the weekend match. That afternoon, Arthur was a little late for detention and Merlin and Miss Slater were already inside when he arrived, damp from the rain, muddy kit bag slung over one shoulder and tie already off.

“Sorry Miss, I was speaking to Mr Roberts.”

“So I heard,” Miss Slater said, looking disapprovingly at him. Arthur failed to look remotely abashed, swinging his bag off his shoulder and making sure to dump it carefully on top of Merlin’s coat and scarf on the floor by the main door (Merlin was in the kitchen and didn’t notice). Miss Slater gave him a look and he moved it back off, looking disappointed. “Why don’t you get started on the magazines, while Merlin finishes the tea.”

Arthur dropped down into the nearest chair, not acknowledging Merlin at all as he drew a pile of dusty magazines towards him and began sorting. Miss Slater looked between the two of them a moment, wondering at the strange coincidence that Arthur should have chosen this week to act on the long running tension between him and Liam Foster, and whether Merlin would even acknowledge the fact. After a few minutes of bustle and the clinking of china, Merlin emerged from the kitchen, tea tray in hand and frowning in concentration. He carefully handed Miss Slater her tea, then dumped Arthur’s on the table next to his hand with rather less grace. Arthur stopped working long enough to peer at it suspiciously.

“I haven’t salted it this time,” Merlin announced magnanimously, with the air of one bestowing a very great favour.

Arthur muttered a reply under his breath which Miss Slater fortunately didn’t catch, and Merlin stuck his tongue out and snatched up his dusting cloths and cleaner.

Miss Slater watched, bemused, and thought that that probably answered her question.

The End (for now).

On to Part Ten

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